


the third witness

by poalimal



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Non-Consensual Body Modification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:56:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1251850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poalimal/pseuds/poalimal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, there's been a <i>sliiight<i> mistake," said Andy.</i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	the third witness

**Author's Note:**

> Henry isn't evil in this.

 

 

"So, there's been a _sliiight_ mistake," said Andy, with a strained smile. "It's a problem of translation - anyway, ha ha, surprise! It turns out there's a third Witness."

"Excuse me," Abbie said, dangerously.

"You will explain yourself," said Ichabod.

"Uh, hey, guys?" said Luke, waving. It took him repeating himself three times before anyone noticed he was standing in the midst of them all.

"Oh," said Abbie, scrunching her face up. She shot a quick look at Andy, over Luke's shoulder. "Oh. my god," she said, in a dead tone, "Andy, what are you-- doing here, I thought you were--"

"Abbie," said Luke, exasperated, "it's okay, I already--"

"-- _dead_ , this is-- you know what? I should probably get my gun out." (She raised a quelling hand at Luke. " _Don't_ get your gun out.")

Ichabod joined in: " _Foul creature!_ " he said stridently, pointing a long finger in Andy's face.

"Hey," Andy said, feelingly.

"My apologies," said Ichabod, lowering his arm quickly.

"--you guys, it's okay, I already know," said Luke, hopping up on a stool on the other side of Abbie. "I too witnessed a traumatic supernatural event when I was younger." He stared around at them all expectantly. "So - what've I missed?"

 

* * *

 

"This is-- unbelievable," Abbie grumbled. "Just unbelievable."

"I could not possibly agree more, Ms Mills," said Ichabod, clenching and unclenching his right hand. "To think that we could have been so woefully misled for so long--"

"And now we're gonna have to bring _Luke_ into the fold," said Abbie. "Are we sure that mistranslation is--uh, mistranslated incorrectly?" She shook her head. "Translated correctly?"

"I intend to find out myself," said Ichabod. "Does it not seem more likely that Moloch would use Lieutenant Morales as a spy?"

"Well," said Abbie, waiting for the light to turn green. "I mean. He's already got Andy for that. Plus, why wouldn't he choose someone like Irving? Luke's kind of..."

"Unremarkable?" offered Ichabod, after a pause. He glanced up into the rear-view mirror with a start. "Ah - no offense intended, of course."

"Oh, none taken," said Luke, from the back-seat; he was trying to beat his high score on Flappy Bird.

"I am certain Moloch would highly value your ability to melt into a background," said Ichabod, brightly. "--Ms Mills, why are you pretending to slice at your throat? I do believe driving requires _both_ hands."

 

* * *

 

That night Luke had a dream he was being eaten alive from the inside out while a pretty red-headed woman frantically cut away at his bindings; he awoke with the sensation that he was drowning in his own blood.

So - nothing new there. He slapped his cheeks, hummed his way into the kitchen, stopped short at the sight of Abbie's sister blocking his way. Jenny? No, Jamie.

"'Scuse me," he said; she obligingly moved to the side. It was only when he placed a mug of coffee in front of her twenty minutes later that she noticed he was there. Suddenly he had a gun pressed up against his jaw.

"We've already got breaking and entering," Luke said calmly, "did you want to add attempted murder to the list?"

Jamie clenched her jaw, lowered her gun. "--Where did you come from?" she asked.

"How about you answer that first?" said Luke, opening the fridge. "I've got this weird thing about wanting to know how people broke into my apartment." He turned his head to her. "Did you want cream? Sugar?"

"What?" said Jamie. "Oh. Both. Please." She fidgeted, audibly. "The super let me in - he thought I was Abbie." They shared a speaking look. "Anyway. I, uh. I heard about the mistranslation - I guess I came over to---feel you out."

"Feel away," said Luke, bringing the half-and-half over to the counter, then sliding the little bowl of sugar over to her. "What do ya got?"

"Okay," said Jamie, slowly, "uh. What kind of traumatic supernatural event did you witness as a kid?"

Luke leaned back on the counter opposite her, opened the drawer with the silverware, got out two spoons. "So I grew up in Texas, right? And my mum wasn't really a typical housewife. She and my dad had to work like three jobs each just to pay the mortgage. So me and my older brother grew up knowing how to sew and press our own clothes, wash and cook, all that stuff.

"So one day, my mum brings home this broom from my aunt's, right? And my older brother, Diego, he kept saying, Luke, I swear to God it's possessed, I swear to God. And I totally fell for it even though he was always teasing me. So one day I was supposed to clean the kitchen, but I got so scared that I went into my room and hid under the bed. But you know what?"

"Um, what?" said Jamie, who, after dumping nearly half of the sugarbowl into her mug, had gone over to the couch and turned on the television. She was currently watching the morning highlights from last night's football game.

"Well," said Luke, sitting carefully down beside her, "when I woke up three hours later, the broom was out -- _and the entire kitchen was clean_." He took a long, slow sip from his snowflake mug. When he placed it down on one of the National Geographic coasters on the low table in front of them, he noticed she was staring at him.

"Oh, hey," he said, smiling.

"That's. that's it?" she said, eyebrows arching impossibly higher. "Your traumatic supernatural event was--a possessed broom doing your chores for you?"

Luke shrugged. "I was too scared to even go into the kitchen for a couple months afterwards." He doesn't mention how having to sit down at the dinner table in the kitchen made him cry, how he couldn't keep any of his mum's cooking down, how the only thing he could eat for a while was the overexpensive, underseasoned school lunches. "Finally Diego admitted he'd just felt guilty about making the whole thing up so he'd just cleaned the kitchen for me."

Jamie stopped doing press-ups on the other side of the couch; she stared up at him in vague surprise - it quickly gave way to irritation. She pushed herself to her feet, gave him a stern look.

"Whatever - just listen," she said. "If I find out you're somehow lying about this--"

"Don't know how I could fake a mistranslation error in a language I don't speak, in a text I don't believe in, but okay," he said, thoughtfully. She arched her brows. He raised his hands, placating. "But you'll run me through - got it."

He crooked a small smile at her, which she returned - Abbie'd never mentioned what a good listener her sister was. Had barely ever mentioned her name. Good to see they were reconnecting.

"It was really nice talking to you, Jamie," he said, as she gave his apartment one last confused glance and went striding for the door.

"What? Oh, no prob," said Jamie, hand on the knob. She turned back, gave him a puzzled look. "--Who's Jamie?"

 

* * *

 

"I see sin on you," said Henry, the next day, in the archives, during an emergency meeting to discuss what to do about the Hobgoblins at IHOP Situation Andy had warned them about. Henry tilted his head, and then his eyes cleared. "But strangely - not your own."

"Henry," said Abbie, softly, "we're over here."

"Abs, he's talking to Luke. At least I think he is," said Jamie--Jenny. She glanced up from her cell thoughtfully, missed eye contact with Luke by a few inches. "He's the one wearing the heavy cologne, right?"

" _Yes_ ," said Crane, stuffed-up and aggrieved. He sneezed loudly into a handkerchief.

"You _are_ quite pungent," said Henry, peaceably. He was tapping all along Luke's left arm - felt like some kind of weird doctor's appointment.

"Sorry," said Luke. (Strangely, he didn't really feel all that badly about making Tall, Dark and British look like a little kid with a cold.) "Thought it'd be more convenient if y'all could at least smell me."

" _Y'all_ ," said Crane, with some disgust. What had _y'all_ ever done to him?

"He's from Texas," said Abbie and Jenny, at the same time. Abbie looked at her sister, surprised. Jenny grinned.

"Yes, thank you, I'm familiar with the term," said Crane, impatiently. He rolled open a second scroll and then sneezed all over it. Abbie made a face - when Crane wiped his own, he took to his feet, shoulders stiffly pushed back. "Ms Mills - might I have a word?"

"Sure," said Abbie and Jenny, at the same time. Jenny looked at her sister, mischievous. Abbie frowned.

"My apologies," said Crane, sniffling. "I was referring to -- _Abigail_." And then his face went very red and he strode out of the room, Abbie following swift on his heels.

Luke, meanwhile, was getting felt up by an old man. Henry had moved onto his neck and was rolling down the back of his collar. On one hand, Luke hadn't been touched intentionally in at least six months. On the other, he wasn't too happy to have a slightly weird old man be the one to break the dry spell.

Well - things could be worse.

"Ah," said Henry, fingers tapping the middle of his neck. "Here it is."

"Here what is?" asked Luke, trying to turn his head back. Henry squeezed the sides of his neck tight, forced him to stay still.

"This might hurt," murmured Henry, which was the only warning Luke got before he was pushed to his knees by a huge stabbing pain that rang throughout all his body.

Everything looked and sounded strange - like rocks and trees were singing, pushing out of the walls. A horrible horned beast came out of a sudden fog and thrust its hand at Luke, apparently aiming to squeeze its fingers around his throat - it tumbled against a blurring bookshelf when the red-headed woman slid in front of him, hands raised and glowing.

Luke was hallucinating; he had to be.

"Jesus Christ," whispered Jamie--Jenny, sat still in the big comfy armchair. Luke tried to keep his eyes on her - she was looking straight at him.

" _What_ is going on here," said a voice which sounded like the Captain's. Luke passed out.

 

* * *

 

"So apparently," said Abbie, softly, when Luke came to in a hospital bed, "Corbin put a sigil on you to keep us apart? Henry saw it." She paused. "He knew a little bit about the road we've got ahead of us, and he was...worried. About me, I guess. Didn't want me to be. Distracted." She looked down at her feet. "He didn't know you were the third Witness - I don't think he knew it would affect _everyone_ around you, either. But I guess he didn't care enough to find out."

It was bad luck to speak ill of the dead; Luke struggled to find words which wouldn't make Abbie feel even worse. She was tearing herself up with guilt - he could tell just by the look on her face. She thought this was her fault.

 _Luke_ was the one who should've known something was off - one day they were semi-happily dating, then, the morning after a meeting with Corbin he still couldn't remember, she wouldn't even look at him? He shouldn't have pestered her for as nearly as long as he had, yeah, but he shouldn't have written her off in his head, either. He should've trusted that she would've been brave enough to break up with him directly.

"Hey," he croaked, "we would've broken up eventually - you always left your wet towels on the floor--"

"--hey,  _you_ always left your hair in the sink, so let's not even go there," said Abbie, fighting back a smile. She winced, and that's when Luke very belatedly noticed the purple paint splashed up to her thighs.

"--New hobby?" he asked, gesturing downwards.

"What, decorating my jeans with hobgoblin blood?" she scoffed. "Sure, yea - sign me up."

"Oh. So they're all dead, then?" he said, relieved.

"Yeah, no thanks to you," she said, grinning slightly. She walked a little bit closer to the bed, lowered her voice: "Don't think you're gonna get out of the next mess by hiding out somewhere, Luke; that shit ain't gonna cut it anymore. You owe me and Crane _big_ time - we need you to start pulling your weight."

"Well," said Luke, with a smile, "if you insist."

 

 


End file.
